Fever
by clementinelemontime
Summary: Growing up, Dick lived a fairly isolated life while in Wayne Manor. One day he is kidnapped by a mysterious group but is rescued in his attempt to escape them by a man who he believes is a hero. Though, the mysterious hero may not have the best intentions, Dick is too wonderstruck by him to notice. Slade/Dick slowburn
1. The Hero Appears!

He can't tell which was worse. The freezing rain slowly numbing his feet or the sharp rocks that seemed to infest the dense forest that he was running through. He clutches tightly onto the silver bird pendant that was once his mother's; he hoped as loudly as he could that it would bring him strength and protection. It's dark out but not so dark that Dick wasn't able to see the trees when he ran up close enough to them but not much else. The sun set about an hour ago and the rain began not too long before he fled from his prisoners. The small, brisk cement room that he was kept in was approximately the same size as a broom closet with a miniature window uncovered by any glass except for metal bars that was six feet above him, letting in the frosty night air. He remembers pounding on the locked wooden door for hours on end before getting tired, only to start it up again when his energy was up once more. He had been in that room for days, he thought and the only time that the door would open was when his captors were bringing him the small amount of nutrients and this would only occur when he was at his most exhausted. They never gave him a chance to fight back; without his shoes, it made it harder to climb or kick the door in. The masked people never spoke to him when he was there, though he was not there very long, and there was no reasoning or pleading with those people.

"Just a little further and then I'll take a quick rest," Dick promises himself out of breath. The young man planned on putting as much distance between himself and his captors as possible before they realize that he is gone. The absence of his shoes and his over-shirt made it that much colder; he knew that he wouldn't last very long in his current condition. Without any promise of shelter, the injuries on his feet, and the harsh elements, he would end up with an infection; not to mention that he was in the middle of the woods that could very well be filled with vicious animals. "Right about now is when the handsome hero is supposed to show up!" He jokes aloud to himself; not that he was ever a fan of the story books and their unrealistic feel. The lacquer of such tales had worn off long ago for him, a part that died along with his parents a decade ago. And though, he cherished his new family and all they had to offer him, it was never the same. He loved them, wouldn't trade them if he had the choice, but there would always be a part of him that wondered about the person that he might have been had they lived. That aside, Dick hopes that his family is okay, especially Damian. Oh, how he had already missed that child; it's been years since he had been apart from all of them and for such a long time. He doesn't want them to worry too much; they tend to get snippier with one another when they're worried and then they do get much done because of it. It's been an either eight days since he was taken in broad daylight from his family. It was right in front of them. It happened so fast and the ruckus that his kidnappers caused was damn-near paralyzing. His head hurts just thinking about the

 _loud noise that resounding throughout the garden. It sounded like a horn of some kind however it was far too loud for it to have come from such a small instrument. Dick covered his ears lowering his head close to his knees. He was kneeling near the flowerbed tending to his aloe plants; Dick had always loved the outdoors, especially when it came to the greenery. When he was back with his parents, they would move around quite a bit, this provided him an opportunity to explore several different types of terrains. Being outside seemed so natural to him, he had always wanted a garden of his own, however, the lives that they lived didn't allow that. Though, he was allowed to keep small houseplants, mostly herbs or succulents or flowers that he'd found in the area._

 _Needless to say, he was exulted when he arrived at Wayne manor to find a place with such heavy vegetation, especially for the city. He had convinced the elderly butler to gift him a small patch in the garden to grow some aloe plants three years ago with a fantastic struggle. Alfred been trying to explain to Dick that the aloe just did not look that pleasing when next to the rest of his flowers and why couldn't he "harvest them in a small pot in his room with the rest of the plants he keeps in there". While Dick had been trying to explain to Alfred that they had absolutely needed the aloe there and that his "room was getting too crowded with plants that Alfred doesn't want him to plant in the garden". After weeks of the back and forth as well as an abundance of pestering him at inconvenient moments, Dick was able to finally have a small plot in the nursery to sow his many plants. Ever since he had been taken in by Bruce after the death of his parents he has spent much of his time outside in the wide expanse of land tending what he grew or up in his room with the ones he kept in there. Even when it was raining he would be lying in the grass with his eyes closed and letting the rain cool him; that is, before Alfred caught him and sent him inside. He loved all of them as he would love a pet; feeding them, talking to them. Though, he was ashamed to admit even to himself that he had a favorite. He loved his aloes the most, not because they were the only ones he was able to plant outside. Dick was convinced that he had needed the aloe for reasons that may have been a bit selfish. He had heard of its many uses when Damian had been reading aloud to him from a book about medicinal plant life. It had fascinated him; he the young man hadn't much considered growing any medicinal herbs or things found in nature. He has been using and often consuming it ever since he has been able to harvest the plant. He finds that it helps him his feeling on the inside. He and Damian were out in the garden on the day when he was spirited away. Damian was reading_ The Adventures of Pinocchio _aloud to him while he tended to his pets. Oh how he loved the adventure books and their tales. He loved them in secret, though. He couldn't bring himself to tell the others; if he had, perhaps he would then have to tell of how he too longed for the adventure that was bestowed upon the protagonists of the children's books. He'd have to tell how he hated the same routine. Everyday was the same for him. Of waking and eating and tending and eating and family time and tending and reading and napping and more tending and sleeping. Dick loved his family, he loved his plants, though, a large piece of him had wanted to leave the grounds that held him most of his life to go see something new or meet people that were new. Something he could do on his own, maybe? Or have an journey of his own? Sometimes he would even wish something bad, but small, would occur just for the taste of the unfamiliar. But these had just been thoughts, he hoped._

 _The day was warm, and it is high noon. They had nowhere special to be and no occasion to hold. And then, the loud shrill noise, like an alarm, rang loud throughout the grounds. The big dog that was sitting next to Damian howled in pain at the auditory violation, his youngest brother dropped his book before collapsing to his knees to cover his ears as he hissed in pain before losing consciousness. Bruce stumbled out of the mansion and onto the grounds with squinted eyes to see what the ruckus was about but quickly falls victim to the uproar as his son had from the pain of the high-pitched disturbance. Dick could see Jason jogging in the back from somewhere in garden though he doesn't appear to be in as much pain as the rest of them, he was sweating, and his step was haggard. Dick thought that he might pass out from the pain that the buzz was inflicting upon him; his head rang, vision was swirling abnormally, and he can feel a liquid leaking out of his ears. Through it all, he had managed to raise his head, eyes still narrowed and slowly made his way over to Damian from his position in the flowerbed. The boy is hunched perhaps his youthful delicate ears could not take it for very long. As he reached down, attempting to hold the boy, hands were on his arms and the back of his neck pushing him into the grass. He turned around to see that there are at least five people dressed in dark clothing covering their faces before his head was forcibly turned back forward. On his knees now, his light spring garments were stained green in the grass. The grass was the last thing he saw before a new pain blossomed in the back of his neck before his world went quiet and as dark as_

the forest that he was currently running through Dick thinks before he stumbles and falls on the slippery ground. On his way down, he slices the right side of his forehead on a sharpened tree branch.

"Ah!" He hisses clutching the right side of his forehead. He thinks that it hurt but that he may be alright because it feels better than it would if it had been a _b-_ The young man's thoughts and body still as hushed whispers coil around him. Dick swears aloud, the rain for making it hard to hear where exactly they were coming from, perhaps they were all around him. They seem to be moving very quickly _, it's as if they might be running_ , he thinks. He's spent enough time in that small cell to know that it was his jailers- or at least the ones who worked for his jailers. He damns himself for being so immersed in his previous thoughts to not have heard them before. Looking up he sees a small light through the dark forest that may not have been there a few moments ago ahead of him. _A small cabin? People?_ There might be hope for his escape yet! But why hadn't he seen it there earlier? _And what is that thumping noise?_ Dick thinks as a loud galloping thud came to his senses. As a cool gale ripped through him in his soaked clothing, he decides that it doesn't matter why it's appearance is so sudden.

Maybe the people in the hypothetical cabin just now decided to light's their lamps for the night. He is probably looking at their window! As the night approaches and the dusk fades it was becoming far too dark to tell be deciding that anything was definitely _something._ The whispers are coming closer. With that, Dick decides it's better to move towards the suspicious light than to stay and wait for what he knew _was_ something dangerous to his person. As quietly as he is able, Dick stands up in his soiled robe-like garments, that were once so lovely and soft, and runs as fast as possible toward the light. The pain of cold feet is one he has not experienced in a great many years; any person that lived in a colder region would know that once one's feet were cold, it was time to go home and that there is no dealing with that discomfort if it is at all avoidable. The whispers behind him were get louder as they seem much to be approaching at a faster pace. Dick tries to focus of the sound of the rain and the light that now seems much closer than it should; he knows he isn't that fast a runner. He tries to ignore the thumping and the whispers that seem to deeply in his ears; tries to concentrate on the light and even the damage done on his feet. Then there are all too familiar hands latching tightly onto his arms that then vanish as swiftly as they appeared. The brunette falls down once again but this time into a cold muddy body of water that is approximately calf-deep. He thrashes into a sitting position, water flinging all about, though it doesn't seem to do much of anything considering the rain and the dark-clad hands are on him, sinking their sharpened nails into his forearms.

"Get off of me!" He yells at the top of his lungs them flailing about furiously in the mud-water; partly out of pain, the other part, to perhaps alarm the people in the light and bring them to his location. The try to pull him out of the water and in the direction of their horrible lair. Just then a bright light is shone their way. The hands' grasp and recede back into their darkness, running back the way that they came from, he reckons. Looking up with narrowed eyes, Dick scans all around him for the light and finally imagines that it is the one in front of him. He hears a horse cry out behind the light but struggles to see it as well as the person that is probably holding a lantern.

"What are you doing out in these woods, boy?" A deep voice questions him sounding strained and irritated. The man lowers his lantern a bit allowing Dick to make out a face. _An older man_. A _good-looking_ older man wearing a dark blue cloak that is drenched on top of a large brown horse with white stops. He couldn't exactly make out much else with all the heavy rain, exhaustion, and light in his eyes. Dick doesn't know why but his words feel stuck in his throat and he feels his face turn a deep red. He doesn't know why but his feelings inside are beginning to fla- that is say, that when he looks at this man, he needs that aloe.

"And so, the _hero_ on the white horse appears," He hisses out quietly to himself.


	2. First Knight

Fever Chapter Two: A night with the knight

Clutching tightly onto the back of the man's brilliant Prussian blue cloak, Dick shivered in both excitement and from the chilling downpour. He was atop the mysterious hero's steed riding through the dark wood to an undisclosed location. Up close he could see and feel how fine the material of the cloak was, caressing it with his fingers. It felt like the clothing that his father bought for him. He slipped a hand into his tatter but stable pocket at that thought to clutch onto his pendant.

"Expensive," He breathed out without thinking. _Must be_ _well off. Maybe he's a noble_ _knight from a good family?_ Dick thought to himself. Though, he would never wear any of his very best things out in the rain and would imagine that anyone from an upstanding family would agree on that. _Perhaps he is so well off that he needn't care about a single piece of finery._

"What was that just now, boy?" The hero growled in a deep guttural voice, peering back at him with one eye like glass; not very much concentrating on him or even looking at him, just straight through. Now that they were nearer, he could see the man's scraggly white whiskers as well. Dick shook his head from side to side in answer to which the Hero huffed through his nostrils. "Stop playing around and hold on before you fall. If you do, I'll leave you in the mud." He hisses before turning back around.

"You need a shave, Mister." He blurts out without, again, without much thought, the lack of a proper meal fogging his judgement. The man turned back to him looking as if he'll say something not that nice in return. "Could you tell me where we're headed, sir?" Dick asks before the Hero could say more not wanting to deal with what the young man behind him had said prior to the last comment. The man's brow that had been furrowed in irritation softened a touch at that, though still looking as prickly as a cactus, his gaze sliding forward once more.

"I've a cabin in these woods." He grinds out. His voice sounding like sandpaper running its rugged skin over a slab of wood. It may have been a while since he spoke at all. "I'll take you there for the night. The rain should let up by morning and you can find your way home."

"Could I trouble you to take me ho-"

"No."

"Halfway there then?"

"No."

"I'm sure I could repay you for your help somehow! But I would just need to get home first."

Silence.

Dick sighed and bit his lower lip starting to get agitated. The rain came down harder, if it was possible.

"Well, you went through the trouble of helping me back there! All of that effort you went to would be pointless if I were to get hurt while leaving!" He practically hollered with wide eyes and a deeply trouble look on his face. The thought of having to be on his own again frightened him. He was used to keeping his own company, though never had he ever been in peril like he had been in the recent weeks. If he were to go out on his lonesome then he was sure to get lost in these woods, that in and of itself posed a threat to his person. Not even counting the people or creatures that were hunting him like a rabbit. He figured it would be best if he told the old man up front. _If he knew that I was in grave danger he would help me home. He might even vanquish them; he_ must _, after all he_ does _protect people? Such is his duty as a Hero and a servant to the king? If he is what I think he is, then he'll help!_ "Somewhere in the forest, there are-"

"Stop talking. You talk too much." Hero strained, cutting Dick off mid-sentence once again. Dick puffed up, unintentionally letting out a small chirp of irritation from the back of his throat. He knew that he had a short temper to begin with; always had! But he was trying to stay composed. Didn't want to look childish or immature in front of a hero and losing himself to anger might not help him convince the man to help him later down the road.

"Ah, you must be tired! A long day of saving the good folk of the kingdom!" The youthful brunette hollers over the noisy rain while moving a tighter hold to his waist. The Hero sighs from exhaustion.

The Hero pushed the door open to his cabin after dislodging the key and spread his hand out in a gesture that said: "After you" which he obeyed, scurrying into the dry place.

Dick hadn't been able to get a very good look at the outside of the cabin, the rain obscured his vision. It hadn't mattered though, he would be able to see it tomorrow.

The interior of the cabin was plain but cozy: a place that any simple person would be proud to live. The starry-eyed young man would not have minded existing in this space either. The wooden floors below were creaky, and the walls around him were covered in animal skins from deer to bears to racoons, save for a small space above the fire place on the right wall that light the house that sat a portrait that he could not fully see. He would need to get a closer look later. They were clearly in a sitting room. There, lie a lone piece of comfortable furniture in front of the fire place; it was a single navy-blue coach that looked sat in, yet, well kept. Adjacent to it was a small round table holding an ashtray, a book, and a mug. A few feet from that sat a rocking chair. Below them was a beautiful carpet that stretched to the back wall and coming toward the front door but not quite reaching.

To his left was a coat rack that held nothing currently but would probably be occupied by a cloak soon. Less than a foot beyond that was a dark staircase that had another lovely scarlet carpet covering it. Beyond the sitting area was the kitchen that was visible from the front door but not in its entirety. From where Dick stood, he was able to see a sink and something that was bulky but short and white.

"Take those clothes off. You're dripping on my floor, boy." The other man said interrupting his musings. He was shrugging his cloak off and began on his boots. In the dim light, he was able to make out his features. He was indeed an older gentleman, an attractive one; he had been correct about that from earlier. He may have been in his fifties; a black eyepatch covered one eye. There was a white beard and long thick snow-white hair that was pulled back into a low ponytail. He was built, not like a soldier, more like a bear! A hot bear; except not a bear, but a human. The wet tan shirt and dark grey pants he was wearing accentuated that.

"Oh! Of course!" He replied, hastily ripping off his wet tattered clothing and dropping them to the floor. Looking down at them, Dick was able to see just how filthy they had become. His skin and hair were probably even worse, he imagined; the thought of looking in a mirror at his current appearance made him sick to his stomach. Even worse, the thought of the other man looking at him like this made him even queasier.

He'd never been in a situation in which he was the person that had to be self-conscience about their looks; it was a drab feeling, but also threw his heart asunder. It was akin to the fluttery excitement he experienced when he was around someone like Lady Koriand'r when he was in her presence. But different in the way that it was also the sense he experienced when reading his novels or detailing them to his little sister. His arms crossed around his torso to hide his body from exposure, though he kept his undergarments.

"They call me D-" He stammered as the effects of the chilled air caught up with his unclothed form.

"Your undergarments as well; they're just as wet as the rest of them." Dick frowned humming in displeasure at that and looked at his toes. It had been years since disrobing in front of someone like this. He never had to taken baths with his sibling when he was younger, nor did he share rooms with any of them at any point in time.

When he was much younger his Mother and Father would help him bathe, Alfred did the same for him when he began living with his other Father, and Bruce took over if Alfred was absent for some reason. Those were four people that be absolutely trusted with that sort of thing. The fifth had been Kori, but that was in another sort of way.

The Hero, who was seeming less like a hero the more he spoke with him, was a stranger and though he was the type that was bound by duty to aid the helpless, there was no telling what he was capable of in this sense. The white haired elder looked at him as he passed, holding his bundled cloak along with his over-shirt, seeming to sense the youths discomfort.

"I'm not gonna look at you like that; so just take them off. I'll give you something else to wear for the night." He responded while disappearing into the kitchen for a few minutes. Richard sighed internally, getting to work on his underclothes. Hearing his older counterpart reaffirm that he wasn't in danger of being assaulted consoled him beyond words. He could be lying about it, what predator was ever forthcoming about being that vile of an individual? Though, this man did not seem the sort of person that would lie about their intentions, even if he were to be vague about it.

Throwing the rest of his apparel down on top of the other soggy ones, Dick covered his lower area looking around sheepishly as Hero returned but turned into a hallway that was on the far left side of the sitting area, Dick failed to see it earlier, but it was dark, and he had seen enough to not be too ashamed about missing it. Just as quickly as he disappeared, the knight reappeared holding a quilt filled with autumn patterns and a few garments, then reached down before the young man's naked form to pick up the clothes apparently unbothered.

"Ah!" Dick yelped jumping back a smidge before going down to get them. "I'll get them for you." As Dick hurriedly went down, the hero's was already coming up, causing a collision between the two. Dick forehead bumped into the back of his head. "Ow!" Grabbing his forehead with both hand and stumbling at the sudden pain, his legs gave in the shock as he fell to his knees. The chivalrous soldier stood; wet clothes in one hand dry one's in the other. The stared into one another's eyes for a few moments, the old ones narrowed just a bit. It wasn't in anger, but it seemed to be in wonder or disdain. Almost as if to say: _Why are you like this?_

"Here." He said as he handed the dry items to him on the ground. Dick snatched them and cover his crotch.

"Thank you!" He responded with a squeak looking down once more. The Hero shrugged turning away.

"Sit in front of the fire for a few minutes to get dry before putting that stuff on."

"Okay, and after that?"

"Sleep. Then leave."

"Where?"

"Home."

"No!" His voice raised a bit. "Where do I sleep?" The man turned his steely eye on his once more, seeming so frosty and empty and cruel.

"The carpet by the fire should do." Dick moved his gaze toward the carpet with the single sofa and rocking chair. Before he could rebuttal, the knight- or maybe not a knight, hell, maybe not even a good Samaritan, left for the kitchen once more. Dick kneed himself over until his was in front of the burning flames.

The bastard said to sleep in on the rug! Didn't even offer for him to sleep on the sofa. He said on the floor! His faced scrunched up into a pout. Maybe he wasn't a Hero after all; just a grumpy old man! A hot old man who helped him out a lot when he didn't have to do so. The dirt that was caked up on his body coupled with his wetness was causing him to get itchy. So, this wasn't like an adventure at all. That burn that he'd felt earlier when he saw the man was completely gone. And he was so sure that it would remain; the scorching sensation wasn't just on the surface the way it usually was, it was under his skin. Remembering it made his hands tremble and his toes curl. It was the strongest that he'd ever felt it before. Staring at the flames as they danced, Dick moaned in displeasure.

The silent footsteps that hurried towards him woke in from his slumber. _When did I fall asleep?_ The light of the fire still burned, he could feel it on his face and see the light behind his eyelids. The steps came close and stopped before him. He couldn't see but he could feel a warmed hulking menacing form hovering above him. They were closing in, close to his face.

Panic seized him, but he feigned sleep. What if this was one of _them_ from before? What if it wasn't? What if it was a ghoul? Or a monster? Its presence felt like that of a monster. He curled into himself tighter without meaning to, pulling his blanket up with him. The rain outside was deafening and eerie in this moment. Another light squeak escaped his throat.

That panic turned to full on hysteria at that; still, he couldn't move he was frozen. The creature gave a hiss; perhaps it was in response to the squeak. Fighting every ounce of sense and self-preservation, Dick gunned his body forward, hoping to headbutt the entity hovering above his face.

Nothing but air hit his face. Dick's eyes flew open and he looked around the room. Nothing. There were no footprints near his space or irregular shadows. _Did I just dream that up? Maybe it was a nightmare?_ He told himself that, even though he had known it was real. _It must have been a spirit!_ That thought calmed him down a bit. He could deal with a spirit around and was satisfied with that answer in his half-awake state. Lying back, Dick pulled the blankets back up to him.

A chill ran over Dick's body and the light of day filtered its way into the house as well as his sights. With a groan, he stretched over the carpet, eyes still shut, listening to the shuffling of feet. He opened his eyes in time to see his host to sit down in his chair with a steaming ceramic bowl in hand. Than man smiled at him for a moment; and just as soon as it was there, it vanished. The bowl was handed to him.

"It's hot."

"Thank you!" He said softly as he took it in his hands gingerly. It _was_ hot. The bowl was filled to the brim white porridge. Never had he ever been so happy to be eating porridge; considering what his previous captors used to feed him. He brought the bowl up to his lips and began the down the piping hot liquid. He had forgotten how hungry he was in the midst of his frustration and discomfort the previous night.

"Slade Wilson," The man's deep scruffy voice had got him to stop his display of sloppy eating. He looked at the host, his eye was cast down, hands clasped together in his lap. "That's my name. And I'll guide you to where you belong." He concluded with a fleeting smile. The bowl was no longer at his lips, but in his lap now.

They both were silent again. The wind and rain blew hard against the windows and cabin. Slade met his gaze and they were like stardust! Dick's own eyes widened at this revelation. Tears began to well up, clouding his vision, and a ridiculous smile also crept a way onto his face.

 _So, he_ was _just tired yesterday; he's a Hero after all!_ He celebrated as the skin under his face and his insides started burning once more.


End file.
